Dean before the Pilot begins
by The.Impala's.Trunk
Summary: Dean is on his way to Stanford and to see his brother for the first time in two years. He has no idea whether his brother will want to see him, or if he'll re-join the family business.


Dean's POV before going into Sam's apartment at the beginning of 1x01

Nerves began to build up inside of me. I couldn't blame them, really. It had been nearly two years since I'd last seen my brother, or talked to him face-to-face, and I felt guilty that I had let it be that long a space of time. I should have at least called him, or been to visit him here in Stanford, before now. But a small voice told me in my head that it was Sam's fault as much as it was mine. He was the one who had walked out and left Dad and me, and the job, after all. And he could as easily have picked up the phone as I could have.

But no matter how hard I tried, the rage I had first felt when Sam had left us soon disappeared, within a month or two, and understanding for what he had done and worry for how he was without me took over the angry emotions. And even when I tried to find that anger now, when I was about to confront him for the first time in about twenty months, it was impossible to feel. All that was going through my mind was that if Sammy was alright, and whether or not he'd be willing to give me a hand with the job I was going to ask him. Because I knew how stubborn he could be sometimes; it was part of who he was. He stood up Dad and went for what he wanted, and I felt a streak of admiration as I secretly wished that I had the guts to do the same at times.

Honestly, I was afraid of how I would look to my younger brother. Desperate? Guilty? Useless and lost, without Dad? And to an extent, I did feel all of those things. But I couldn't let him see that; I had to keep my game face on, and give him something to look up to – if he did look up to me anymore. I realised with a sense of dread that I realistically had no idea how Sammy would be with me, whether it was welcoming, hesitant or even hating towards me. I tried to push out the thought of the latter, because I didn't know what I would do if that happened.

I tugged the keys out of the Impala's ignition and the growl of the engine died down and stopped. I buried the keys in my jeans pocket and took a deep breath as I swung open the car door and stepped out into the cool night air and looked at the building in front of me.

The apartments looked fairly old, but sturdily built, and at the time of half an hour past midnight, only a couple of lights were spread around the front of the building. I only knew Sam's room number, 28a, because of a report from Dad nearly a year ago, when he had driven by Stanford to check up on Sam, unknowing to him. I took a guess at around where I thought this room would be located, and no lights were on around the area. What a geek boy; going to bed before three in the morning at college. I smiled to myself, despite of the nerves now knawing a hole inside of me. Maybe he hadn't changed that much without my presence.

I jumped up the main steps, picked my way in and tracked down Sammy's room. I stood outside the door for a moment, hoping that he would want to pick up the job again and ride with me, even for a little while. Things hadn't been the same since he'd left. I always got the sense Dad did too, but I had missed the presence of a third Winchester a lot more. Dad knew how much I'd missed him, especially when he'd first gone away, and had always tried to involve me more, and offer company or assistance on hunts, but I usually refused them. I preferred to work alone sometimes. But of course it wasn't the same without Sam around, and Dad had sensed it too.

I fingered the lock pick in my hands and got to work, the door opening quietly, easily and quickly. Once I was in there I realised had no idea where I was going, so felt my way round the rooms, which were only lit by the moonlight outside. I made my way through the hallway and then found myself in the kitchen; damn it, how the hell was I meant to get upstairs to Sam?

I was finding my way to what seemed in the shadows like a staircase, when I felt a figure from behind grab my shoulders and throw me forwards. I spun round, now against a wall, and ran up to my attacker and threw my knee into his stomach. If anyone was trying to hurt my brother, they'd have me to answer to. My opponent grunted and was knocked off balance, where I pushed him to the floor, pinned down...until I saw who I been beating up. I loosened my grip on my brother's top and patted him on the shoulder.

"Easy, tiger," I said, grinning. I figured it was best to break the ice with a joke, as I did so many times. Sam's face twisted from surprise to disbelief.

"Dean? You scared the crap out of me!"

I couldn't help it. "That's because you're out of practice."

I caught a quick expression of a glare from my brother's face and immediately felt a little bit guilty for being so quick to judge him; we hadn't been together for five minutes. I soon forgot about my comment, however, when I found myself pushed away as I lost my grip on Sam's t-shirt, thrown to the side, and pinned to the floor by him, reversing positions.

"Or not," I said with a smirk. I dropped the smile when he didn't let go, grinning himself. "Get off me."

Sam got up and let me catch my breath as he did the same, then held out a hand to help me up. I guess that was a good sign, anyway. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.


End file.
